True Happiness
by ZaraShade
Summary: "It had taken a pysch-worm induced coma treatment unfolding within an imaginary world to make her realise it, but she had finally found her true happiness."


**So I just re-watched 'Out of the Blue' (again) and then found this half-written on my computer... and thought it would be a perfect excuse to get Helen and Nikola together before the events of 'Into the Black'. **

**It may seem a little John/Helen at one point – but it's more one-sided on his part. This is definitely Teslen. **

**Enjoy. :) **

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Helen felt like the world had closed in around her as she stood at her kitchen counter. There was a heavy pounding in her ears that echoed the loud pulsing of her veins. She watched with glazed eyes – almost as if it were a dream – as John walked out to his sleek black car, parked outside of her house, in the suburbs. Her husband...

None of it felt right. It all felt so ruddy messed up. When had her life become such a jumbled mess of fragmented jigsaw pieces that never quite seemed to fit together?

Her heart was pounding so hard against her chest she felt like it was about to explode, yet she didn't know why.

"_It's time for you to choose your true happiness,"_

The words John had spoken burned like a red hot fire lashing about in her mind, ripping through her body mercilessly.

"_Your true happiness"_

She felt guilt wash over her, but once again couldn't explain the emergence of the emotion. Flashes, images, of a man accosted her mind. It was man she had never met, and yet she felt such a strong connection to him. He was tall, lithe, with a toothy grin and a sparkle in his grey blue eyes that sent a bolt of emotion through her. Happiness rushed through her in an instant as his image appeared and then disappeared just as dramatically when his image faded away.

Who was this man?

Why did she feel like she couldn't bear to breathe without him near?

It had all seemed so clear for a fraction of a second as his image had appeared in her head, and then so muddled just an instant later. She was so confused, so frustrated. She wanted to scream and shout and throw things.

But she didn't.

Helen looked down at the bench, tears springing to her eyes; she reached out for the pill bottle without even so much as considering the piece of folded paper beside it. She had to get out, out of her mind. She had to get away from the guilt, from the pain, from the love she'd seen reflected in that mysterious man's eyes.

She had never met this strange man who was invading her thoughts – to her knowledge at least. Yet she felt like she knew him possibly better than she knew anyone else. She felt inexplicably drawn to him and a strange tug at her heart-strings. Her heart constricted when she thought about him. It was like a word on the tip of one's tongue, you knew that you knew it but you couldn't quite articulate it. She could _feel _her connection to him, could feel an overwhelming rush of emotions when she thought about him, but couldn't place him.

It wasn't right. _This _wasn't right. Nothing here was. She couldn't explain why beyond the fact that it just wasn't, and this frustrated her.

She walked over to the coach, fiddling with the little orange bottle that was both her salvation and her downfall.

Words came to her, playing out in her mind in a flash like an old recording, and then they were gone. His voice was so familiar to her – she felt like she should know it. She shook her head, fingering the bottle contemplatively. She didn't let the tears fall. For some reason, she felt more at peace, as though something inside her had clicked. She knew what she had to do.

"_Kiss me and I'll save your life," _

"Then save me," she whispered, taking far too many pills.

She didn't know why she did it, only that it was the sole way to get close to this man. Somehow she knew what her true happiness was, and it wasn't here.

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The machines attached to Helen's container beeped wildly as the woman's eyes flew open. She could hear people shouting, distorted by the sound of sloshing water all around her. She looked around to see she was in the lab she'd sometimes see when she tried to sleep.

"It's too early!" she heard someone shout. The voice was so familiar to her. It was a man's voice, a young man, not the same as the other man she'd been seeing in her mind. She, bizarrely, thought of her innocent white cat when she heard that voice.

"Quickly put her back under!" another shouted.

"Sorry Magnus," the first voice said again as she felt a jab in her arm.

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John sat in his car with his hands grasping the wheel tightly. He was driving down the street away from his wife, his home. He stopped the car abruptly. He couldn't leave her, he just couldn't. He wanted – needed – to go back and beg her to take him back, he would get down on his knees this time if he had to. He needed her. She was his; his bright, fierce, enticingly eccentric Helen.

He jumped out of the car, not even bothering to drive it back to her house, and ran the short distance there himself.

He knocked on the door, not hearing the usual heavy pounding music that flowed almost perpetually from her house. When he'd moved out, he'd thought that having silence would be a blessing. But he found himself hating it. After living with her for years, the lack of music irked him more than it ever had, because it was so purely her.

She didn't answer. That concerned him. She'd been there only moments ago.

John let himself in, noticing she hadn't locked the door since he'd left.

"Helen?" he called out. He walked through to the living room, "Helen? Helen!" He yelled out as he saw her lying limply on the couch. Her arm had swung over the edge to trail the ground and the orange pill bottle was overturned beside it, a few scattered pills remained. When he'd felt it only minutes ago, it had been almost full.

His heart felt as though it would explode as a cold rush of fear gripped it.

This couldn't be it, she couldn't be dead. He wouldn't let her be dead.

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"_Sorry Magnus,"_

Helen could see lights flashing around her and once again could hear people's voices shouting with urgency. Urgency. That was an emotion she felt familiar with, that she could recognise. She closed her eyes willing it to go away. She could feel the darkness tugging at her, luring her, it would feel so good just to give in and let go. She could feel the man from her dreams, and she could sense him growing nearer. She smiled. No more urgency.

"_I've often wondered what this moment would be like – me, you tied up..."_

Where was he? Where was this man? She reached out a hand grasping at the image that seemed to be in front of her in her groggy state. A hand grabbed hers and she saw John's face, not the other man's, in front of her vision.

_No. _

This wasn't right.

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Helen could hear a steady, rhythmic beeping, so different to the frenzied sound of whirring machinery from before inside the lab. This one was a more soothing sound, one that she was used to. She couldn't explain why, but she had heard that sound many times and it had always been a comfort.

She moaned and shifted in ...the bed?

Her body ached and her mind felt sluggish. She opened her eyes and the room slowly came into view. It was a hospital room. It was the machines beside her that were emitting that familiar beeping sound. She blinked.

None of this felt real, and yet it did at the same time. How could this be? She'd been so sure that something would happen – anything. All she had known was that she had to get away from the frustrating, suffocating world she was in. It seemed so foolish now. She'd tried to kill herself. A new wave of tears rose up and she let out a strangled sob. It still didn't feel right, nothing did.

John sat beside the bed, a few days worth of stubble on his chin, and red-rimmed eyes. He sat up when he noticed she was awake from her gasp.

"Helen," he croaked out.

"John?" she said, her voice hoarse. This was not what was supposed to be going on. She was not supposed to be here with him.

"Oh God, how could you do that to me, Helen? To yourself?" he said, tears in his eyes and his voice more desperate than angry.

"I...I don't know," she said, feeling so small and lost.

It had all seemed to clear before. But now it was back to that confusing darkness that she just couldn't shake.

"I thought I'd lost you!" he said, standing, "My _God_, Helen!" he turned away, running a hand over his face. She took in his dishevelled appearance and bit her lip, tears threatening to spill over her cheeks. Why did she feel so ruddy useless? She felt like an observer in her own life. Frustration was like an ever-present cloud hanging over her.

"I'm... sorry," she said meekly instead. He turned, furious.

"You're sorry?" he said, his voice straining with emotion, "You try to _kill _yourself and you're sorry?"

She didn't know what to say. What could she? That she'd kept hallucinating a man she didn't know, but could feel such strong and real feelings for that she'd been so confused she'd decided to kill herself? Because somewhere in her mind it had made sense? It had meant she could be with her dream-man? That it had been the first thing to make sense in a long time...

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It had been two days. Two days since she had woken up after trying to kill herself. Two days since John had brought her home, and stayed himself. John was hovering over her as though he were an anchor keeping her moored to the shore that was this reality. She wanted to ask him to leave, but how could she? She'd just tried to kill herself. No one would trust her to be alone. She wasn't even sure she trusted herself anymore. She couldn't trust anything.

She'd let John take care of her because she knew he needed to. She barely ate and couldn't sleep. Every time she tried to close her eyes images of that man, and images of a young blue-eyed blonde girl who she felt a strong connection to, rushed into her mind and refused to leave.

John kept asking her how she felt, and she never knew how to reply. How could she when she didn't even know herself? Her emotions were all such a mess right now. She was feeling emotional connections to people she didn't know. Maybe she really was crazy.

John had been subtle at first, patient even, which was not a trait she generally associated with him, but then he'd become frustrated too. He would always ask why, and she would just respond angrily with 'it just isn't right'.

It took another two days for her to discover her neighbour across the road was also experiencing a similar feeling of displacement and frustration. Another two days after that, they made the decision to drive her car off the side of a cliff.

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Helen awoke with a startled gasp, coughing and spluttering as a watery liquid splashed into her mouth. Hands were grabbing her and she twisted to break free, splashing the water violently. Her mind was screaming, this was the lab she kept seeing in her mind. But it felt so real.

She looked over to see Will across from her.

Will – Dr William Zimmerman – not her neighbour, her protege. Memories came flooding back and it all seemed to piece together. Everything made sense now, who she was, what she was.

Her eyes widened as she saw Henry and Kate rushing down a set of grey metal stairs. They didn't seem under duress.

"Hey, Doc," Henry said, "Good to see you back...you know, as you."

Helen stared at the young man in confusion, her eyes falling on Virgil St Pierre, grinning like a fool.

"What the bloody hell is going on here?" Helen said as she and Will were helped out of the bizarre liquid filled vats.

"Oh... you guys don't remember anything from before?" Kate said. Helen and Will just stood there blinking. "No wonder you guys are confused."

Helen and Will followed the three up the stairs into an office. The floor was littered with rubbish, take-out containers and empty soft drink cups, and Helen barely heard Henry's brief explanation of them 'living like bachelors'. Her mind was whirring with thoughts. What had gone on? Why had she and Will been trapped in a perverse imaginary world?

Her eyes widened as Henry revealed the beautiful creature that had been the cause of their psychosis. It made sense scientifically speaking. But, as she stood with her eyes glued to the magnificent creature, she felt her heart race quite a little bit faster.

_Bloody hell. Bloody, bloody hell, _was the thought that came into her mind when she finally pieced it together.

Suddenly all of the feelings made complete and utter terrifying sense. She was in love with Nikola Tesla. It had taken a pysch-worm induced coma treatment unfolding within an imaginary world to make her realise it, but she had finally found her true happiness.


End file.
